The anonymous nature of writing helps me process. I write my feelings, I write my ideas, and I hope so much for my own skill to rise. I have high expectations. For myself. I've written many things just in the past year. The posts on this blog have helped me understand. Or, I've finally gotten …
Category: Fri-losophy
Cenotaph
Spotting one leopard spotWilted, the heart hurts, just trying to bloom belowthe snow, inside the shallowhall, adorned with red, blue, purple,black, yellow, green, light brown,wilted but never fading.
Black and White
I can't choose. Even when there's a choice to be made. The only thing I ever know for sure. One side is black, the other white. Swirling until I decide on the future.
Bright and Early
Coral in the sea of emerald, the rolling, crushing waves breaking the beach. Sand thrown aside, rocks thrown in line, and there I am, a pinwheel caught by the wind. One droplet gathered in the clouds. It falls on a single seed somewhere in the desert. And all I can think about is--I don't know …
The Feeling of the Day is…
Resistance. It's not a feeling of being lost. More, misplaced. Scrambled rather than being a black hole of nothing. What's the point? There is none. There doesn't have to be a reason. Just as there doesn't have to be a reason to breathe and live. Writing doesn't need a reason--this is something that I consider …
For Me
What makes a good story? What makes good characters? What makes interesting scenes? Fights? Conflict? Villains? Beginning, middle, end? What makes a decent story? What makes a decent plot? What makes a good book? What makes a good post? What makes a good writer? ... Trauma? Heart? Pain? Anger? Self-doubt? Determination. Perseverance. Stubbornness. Confidence. Hope? …
The Hard Part
Frustrated. Hungry. Annoyed. Hopeful. Regretful. Grateful. Scared. Driven. Lost. Stubborn. Doubtful. No matter what I'll keep moving forward. I'm not happy with my production, or my writing. But, it's not a bad thing. At least, not this time. This time it serves to only make me fight harder. I may not have the confidence to …
27 Million Degrees
Alone i think in back and white, ink and scribblesThe land of a shadow prisonIn the head of born-well bladesI arise with arid acidand burn with beautiful flames
Blank
losing something in a mirror, looks backand finds the only voice in my head,calling me back to embrace,new
Chrysus
I think in cycles. I live in a cycle. Cycles are a big part of my writing. Symmetry, parallels, trios, endless cycles. Breaking them. Twisting. Reforming. Balancing. Numbers and mythology, a different language that I like to use. And hope to be good at, for decent writing, some day. Doubt and frustration. Part of the …
Just Buckle Down 